I don't use it that much anyway

I found out something

Like I always do,

That "I don't mind" thing

That almost always is true.

I find I can't control my thought,

Or maybe just found it difficult

To tear myself away from a thought

My brain has attached to like a fault,

To share, dissect and solve.

To a new sudden flow

That wants to intrude on the curve,

To be worked on as first in tow.

I think my brain gets confused

On which to pick first,

When thousands clamor for it to choose.

And almost always thirst

To be first to go under the grinding blocks.

My brain literally goes over drive

To produce a hale of works, sharp as swords,

Smarting my skull, like an attack from a hive.

My speech stutters and falls

Like I've run out of what to say.

On the contrary, I have lots

But they come in heavy torrents a million way.

Hence, I tend to stammer or go mute

When a simple question is asked of me.

Like an amnesiac, or growing a sore tooth

I weary to talk as its too slow to free,

My mind of its heavy, roiling burden

I don't use it that much, anyway.

I feel more kinship between my writing,

And my mind than I can say.

©AdeayoPoetry